High School of Legends
by releasetheweasel
Summary: League of Legends meets slice of life in a high school setting. All characters are human and while some may have extraordinary abilities, it is set in a modern realistic setting. Each chapter will be a single short story revolving around certain characters. I hope to get around to representing all champions eventually. Humor, parody, romance and cheesy references to the game.
1. Chapter 1: New Year

Despite it's name, the Institute of War was a school built to help garner peace across the continent of Valoran. In fact, after the second Rune War, the world of Runeterra faced an almost certain destruction if the people didn't change their ways. So a man who had lost everything stepped forward and called for a truce. Thankfully, the leaders were not deaf to this man's words and while the tension remained, the fighting ceased. It was then that the man built the Institute, located on the borders of once warring nations. He invited the nations to send their youths so that they may not be taught war, but instead learn from it.

But this was decades ago and Valoran has since remained in a state of peace. The youths who were attending today knew only of war from their history books. The Noxian students and the Demacians may not always get along but there was no bloodshed. Piltover and Zaun may have different world views but here their future shared dorm rooms and school halls.

The school itself was a large brick building, three stories tall. Immediately inside the gates was the quad, surrounded by the side wings of the school. On the far end of the quad was the building's main entrance, two massive wooden arched doors. Due to the size of the doors they were usually kept open all throughout the school year, leading into a small entrance room with much more reasonably sized doors to keep the weather out.

It was here that the students were gathering. Many returning students waited around the courtyard, sitting on the benches that lined the building or simply using their luggage as seats, waiting to see their friends again after spending a summer away. The new students, anxious and excited, made their way straight for the main entrance guided by faculty and certain responsible upperclassmen. Occasionally a bus would stop off to be greeted with cheers from friends, or a limousine would herald rumors and hushed conversations as the hired help opened doors and carried suitcases.

Principal Zilean watched all this from his office window, third floor, directly above the main entrance. Though the commotion outside wasn't entirely muted from here, it was overpowered by the sound of a large grandfather clock ticking away. The principal, an old man with long white hair and a long white beard, found the sound soothing. It had a rhythmic elegance to it. A reminder that all things must and will continue on.

The vice-principal though simply found it annoying. A gruff, muscular man who towered over the principal and most people in general. Though he was not as old as the principal, he too had white hair. In contrast to the principal's hair, which grew untamed, the vice principal's was kept neat and orderly, layered down the back of his neck. He clenched his teeth and jutted his square jaw out as long as he could keep silent. He had finally decided he couldn't take it anymore.

"Must we listen to that unbearable clock?" he bellowed in a deep, rumbling voice.

"I knew you would say that," the old man replied, his voice breathy and soft. "Honestly Volibear, every year I invite you to my office to watch the students return and every year you complain about my clock. Ah, but perhaps it is part the tradition now."

"Your tradition is a foolish one old man. Our staff is limited as it is and every year brings more and more students to the Institute. Look at them, disorganized and complacent. There is still much to do yet we stand around."

"In good time," the old man calmly assured.

"If you wished to run a school so devoid of order and rules then I question why it is you brought me on as vice principal." The massive man looked at the principal waiting for a response, but as if scheduled to prevent any explanation there was a knocking at the door. The old man simply turned his eyes towards his companion, smugly excused from the conversation. "Come in," roared the vice principal.

The door opened and one of the teachers stepped in, keeping the door behind him open as he did. A younger man than the two present, he had dark skin and a long, dark pointed goatee. He wore thin square spectacles low on his nose and held a large book under his arm. Professor Ryze was simply old fashioned like that. While other teachers kept all their papers and records in digital format, Ryze preferred to keep everything analog. Another peculiarity of his, and rather more apparent than his methods, were the tattoos covering his body. Running over his hands, up his neck and across his bald head were bold, simple patterns telling of the man's suspect past.

"All students who will be in attendance this year have arrived," he informed in his raspy voice. Opening his book to the exact page where he had been keeping a headcount, somehow not needing to flip a single page more than necessary, he double checked his facts before slamming the book shut in satisfaction. "The students are being assigned to their dorms now and, if this pace keeps, we should remain on schedule for the orientation."

vice principal Volibear, having heard enough, stormed across the room. "I'll insure we remain on schedule. If no one else will!" As he made his way out of the room and down the hall he could be heard saying to himself, "Sniveling cubs..."

The professor, having given the large man a wide birth, cleared his throat and stepped closer to the principal. He didn't quite stand at his side simply because he didn't wish to overstep his boundaries as he asked, "Zilean, if I may be so bold, why did you bring him onto your staff? As vice principal no less."

"Ryze, when I built this school I had one goal in mind. Bringing together a peaceful Valoran for the sake of Runeterra. Volibear is from the northern Freljord where his tribe, the Ursine, mostly remained neutral during the Rune Wars. It wasn't until after the truce was made that he had decided to urge his tribe to fight. He added his forces with another tribe which further instigated the civil war wracking the Freljord. When I first heard this I was furious. An armored bear, as we used to call their warriors, was breaking their long era of peace now after we had agreed to herald in a new age?

"But I knew I couldn't let anger be any sort of resolution. If I had refused to acknowledge his people then we'd never achieve peace. So after inviting him on and after much persuasion, he finally agreed to join the Institute staff."

"So, you wish to keep your enemies closer?" the professor waxed poetic.

"You can say that. But I've also grown to realize that maybe this school needs him." From the quad below the vice principal could be heard clearly from the office as his orders thundered out across the courtyard to the students, forcing them to move along and fall in line.

The day had passed on and, with the help of the vice principal, all the students had been assigned their dorms and moved in on schedule. The new students had been given a tour of the campus, starting with the main school building itself. Behind the school were the two student halls, broken up by gender. Between them was another courtyard with stone paths leading from each building to a large decorative fountain. Well polished dark wood benches broke up the trees every so often that lined the walkways. Beyond the student dorms was the great gymnasium and the large auditorium building. Beyond that, the many sports fields expanded out to the tree line.

It was in the auditorium that the students were now gathering. While the new students sat in the front closest to the stage, the returning students found space next to their friends in the seats further back. Each conversation, not entirely too loud, began to compound on the next until the filled out amphitheater was a cacophony of noise.

The conversations grew more hushed as the teachers began to take the stage, the back of which was line with chairs. A single lectern stood front and center with a microphone protruding from it's top. As the teachers and staff took their seats, the principal approached the stand and tapped the microphone twice.

_THUMP THUMP._

"Hello? Is this thing on? Ah yes, good. Good. Everyone, may I have your attention please?" The students mostly quieted their conversations, though he still didn't have their undivided attention. As he tried asking again the vice principal roared out from his seat, arms crossed, not needing a microphone to be heard. Silence followed until the old man spoke again.

"Ah, yes, thank you for that. Welcome students old and new to the Institute of War! I hope you are as excited for the new school year as we are. It is a pleasure to see our returning students, as well as the new faces up here in the front. I have a feeling this year is going to be even more stimulating than ever. As the year marches forward, I would like all of you to remember that while it may seem like it drags on, the time will pass us all too quickly. Be sure to take it in and not lose that most precious of resource. Time, after all, flies like an arrow. Fruit however flies like a banana."

The joke was greeted with an all too awkward silence. A few people thought about laughing, one even attempted it but quickly disguised his bad decision as a cough and slunk further into his seat. The vice principal put his massive hand to his face and shook his head.

Finally, the principal continued. "I assure you that was quite funny at one point. Anyway, moving right along I'd like to introduce our staff and welcome them all back with us. Most of you have already met, and I'm sure have already developed a healthy fear of, our vice principal Volibear."

The large man stood from his chair and simply looked out at the students as they respectfully clapped for him. Having received sufficient praise he took his seat again and folded his arms for the remainder of the ceremony.

As the old man proceeded to call out the teachers, the students would clap and cheer to varying degrees. Some of the more popular teachers included professor Ryze (math), Mr. Taric (language arts) and Ms. Fiora Laurent (art). The rest of the teachers; Mr. Warwick (science), Mr. Jericho Swain (history), Mr. Renekton (physical education) and Mr. Viktor (shop class) received respectable applause. The ceremony then proceeded to introducing the non-teaching staff at the school. Librarian Nasus, counselor Shen, nurse Akali. Finally the custodian Nautilus, as well as the cooking staff Brand and-

"MUNDO would like to thank all of students for being here today! Mundo knows all students have biiiiig appetites and Mundo assure there be many nutritious meal choice to choose from." Satisfied with himself, Mundo nodded proudly as he stepped away from the microphone and returned to his seat.

"Thank you Mundo for your... impromptu words. As the ceremony comes to a close, I'd just like to say once more: Welcome to the Institute of War."


	2. Chapter 2: Student Council President

"Good morning Institute of War! I'm Janna Windforce and this is the Homeroom Morning Announcements!" The bubbly blonde in the blue blazer cheerfully smiled into each room from the closed-circuit television network running through the school. Her long hair was pulled back in a professional ponytail and she wore a special pair of wireframe glasses to complete the look. Anyone who knew Janna could tell you she was usually very calm, but as soon as she was on camera she took on a completely different persona.

"It is a wonderful day to start the school year on and I know you're all just going to have a great year. Let's kick things off with some student news shall we? Our top story: Who will be the new student council president? A new year means a new vote for the most coveted position within the extracurricular student government. If you think you, or someone you know, should be on the ballot, then know that all nominations must be placed with counselor Shen before the end of the day. All candidates need a running mate for vice president as well. Elections will be held on Friday morning during homeroom and will be announced at the end of the day. We will keep you updated as the news develops.

"Moving on to our next story, all club activity will be suspended until after the student government has been formed. But does that mean you should ignore them? Getting together with a teacher to sponsor your club early will make the process easier come next week, when all clubs must be approved by the student council.

"Finally a tip to all the new students: please do not go wandering around in the forest behind the school. If anyone tells you there are giant lizards or stone golems out there, don't believe them. You may end up lost. Or worse, eaten by the dragon. Hahaha!" Such a phoney laugh.

"Next we'll turn it over to Karma with her report on school uniforms. What will you wear? Stylish remake or traditional outfit? Karma goes over the fashion do's and don'ts for accessorizing your uniform to be uniquely you. But first, the weather!"

* * *

><p>The students at the Institute of War are allowed a great deal of freedom with their school uniforms, despite the vice principal's wishes. The basic uniform is as follows: male students were to wear a white short or long sleeve buttoned shirt, navy blue or royal purple slacks and black shoes. The option of a jacket or vest matching the color of their slacks andor a tie may also be worn.

For the female students the basic uniform consisted of: white short or long sleeve buttoned shirt, navy blue or royal purple plaid skirt and black shoes. Likewise, they are also allowed the option of vest, jacket or tie.

That said, many of the students chose to customize their uniforms. For example, of the Demacian students sitting together in the cafeteria for lunch, each wore their uniform differently. Jarvan Lightshield IV wore his more like a suit, his navy blue jacket buttoned and his tie affixed to his shirt with a gold tie clip with Demacia's crest; two winged lions crossing swords over a shield. His tie clip matched his cufflinks and really gave him an air of importance. Despite his clean look, he let his wavy black hair grow long, just passed his shoulders.

In contrast, the Crownguard siblings Garen and Luxanna sitting across from him wore their uniforms closer to standard. Keeping with the blue many Demacian students chose to wear, Garen wore the short sleeve shirt but with a matching blue scarf. Similarly his sister wore the short sleeve shirt, but with a large ribbon bow on the front. While Garen stood taller than his sister and had short, cropped brown hair compared to her long, silky blonde hair, they both shared the same bright blue eyes.

Sitting next to Jarvan was a girl with a long red braided ponytail and sharp eyes that shot over to catch a glimpse of the man whenever he wasn't looking. Shyvana wore the long sleeve shirt with a vest over it. She wore long white socks up to her thighs, right up to her skirt line. The flesh between sock and skirt tended to expose itself more often when Jarvan was around, not that he'd ever noticed.

Rounding out the crew, leaning forward in his flipped around chair, Xin Zhao brought the most casual look to the Demacian clique. He wore the long sleeve shirt, thought he rolled up the sleeves and neglected to button the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing his white undershirt. Being of Ionan decent he wore is long black hair in a top knot, tied at the top of his head and bound again half way down his back.

"You should totally run for class president J4! I mean it only makes sense," the blonde girl continued excitedly. "You're a shoe in. Everyone knows your dad is the president of Demacia, so it's in your blood. Who else is more qualified?"

"Presidency isn't hereditary Lux," Garen answered for his best friend, knowing well enough what his response would be and earning himself a punch in the upper arm from his sister.

"Not the point. I still think you'd make a great student council president," she continued.

"I simply have no interest in it Lux. I do not intend to cast my father's same shadow," Jarvan replied.

"Awww, it could have been fun. Then Garen could be vice president and I could get away with anything I wanted," the girl disappointingly shrunk into her seat.

"As if!" Garen nearly knocked over his milk tumultuously. "First of all, I wouldn't want to run for vice president anyway, no offense J4," he said, raising his drink in respect. "Secondly, I wouldn't let you get away with squat! The way you torment me I'd have the student disciplinary committee lock you up in detention faster then you can say Demacia!"

Lux harshly stuck her tongue out at her brother and there was a tense silence at the table brought on by the two. It wasn't uncommon, the sibling rivalry had existed since the two of them could remember. Nothing got under Garen's skin quite like his sister. The others in the group wondered why they bothered hanging out with each other, but having no siblings of their own it was something they simply couldn't understand.

"I heard Darius was going to run," Xin offhandedly broke the tension. Jarvan paused for just a second, a napkin in hand wiping his mouth as he heard the words. In a swift action he threw the napkin onto his tray and stood, dragging Xin up by his arm.

"You're my vice president. Let's go," he ordered as he marched his way to the counselor's office.

"I'm coming with!" Shyvana hastily grabbed her's and Jarvan's trays to clean up after them as she raced to catch up.

* * *

><p>Darius was balancing a text book on his forehead while kicking his feet out in a little dance on the grass. He and his friends had taken lunch period outside to get away from the crowds. Darius had thrown his purple jacket aside as he tried preformed his balancing act. The other Noxians with him chose to wear the royal purple uniforms as well. Darius was the largest one there, his physique muscular and intimidating. He wore his dark brown hair slicked back to a point.<p>

"Nice move," one of them complimented in a deep, gravely voice. Darius launched the book up with a fling of his head and caught it as he stood back upright.

"Thanks bro," he said, surprised to have gotten any praise at all from his brother.

"Not you, Draven was talking to the man in the mirror." Sure enough, Draven was staring into a hand mirror, running his other hand through his hair and then pointing at his reflection with a grin. Draven wore his short sleeve shirt untucked and unbuttoned. If he hadn't already gotten in trouble for it on more than one occasion in previous years, he wouldn't be wearing an undershirt at all. But apparently that was just too much Draven for some people to handle.

Draven had enough product in his hair to cause it to stand straight up, though his hair was shorter on top than the ponytail draped over his shoulder. After his hand ran through his hair one more time it found it's way to caressing a budding pencil thin mustache. Draven's pride and joy.

A scoff came from under a tree as Katarina regretted turning her gaze from her tablet up to the two when she heard talking. The redhead had taken some liberties tailoring her jacket to only extend half way down her torso. She then tied her shirt together at the base to expose her navel and turn some heads as she walked the halls. She wore black leggings under her skirt to ensure all attention was drawn to her well toned core.

To keep the grass stains off her skirt she was using Talon's jacket as a blanket. Against his wishes, of course, not that his wishes meant anything to the Du Couteau girl. Had it not been for her father he likely wouldn't be attending the school, hence why he was often subjected to being her lackey. He wore a gray hooded sweatshirt which he now pulled up to his waist as he hung upside down from the tree above Katarina. With his free hand he checked in on various social media sites with his mobile phone, pausing only to peek at Katarina's screen. She hadn't looked at his text message yet, which made him frown. But she also hadn't beat his high score in the game she was playing, which brought back a satisfied grin.

Darius went back to trying to entertain himself as Katarina finally got around to reading Talon's text. She looked up at him confused and simply asked, "You want to run for class president?"

"I was just wondering what you'd think," he clarified, trying to play it cool.

"No one would vote for you. You're too..." She searched for the right word. "Quiet," was her choice. "Darius could probably win though if he ran."

"No," Darius tersely rejected.

"I wasn't saying you should," Katarina barked back defensively. "Just saying that if you did you'd have a better chance of winning."

"I could easily win. I just don't want to."

"I was just saying-" she began, her voice raising to a shout before Talon cut her off.

"Jarvan's running. Janna posted it on her news feed."

Darius grabbed the book balancing on his forehead and looked at the others. They were staring at him expectantly. Waiting. Instead of trying to argue or fight, he simply pondered for a moment. After he came to a conclusion he pointed at Draven and said "I hate you the least. You're my running mate."

"Alright, Draven's making an exit."

As the brothers ran off, Talon flipped down from the tree with some grace. _Nailed it_ he thought to himself. He figured this was as good an opportunity as ever and nonchalantly leaned against the tree. "Soooo... Kat. How about-"

"Shut up. You're not allowed to talk until I've beaten your high score." Katarina stood and started heading back inside, her eyes still glued to the tablet. And just like that, opportunity gone. Talon sighed to himself and bent over to pick up his jacket, frowning at the grass stains. With a dispassionate shrug he threw the jacket over his shoulders and followed the gang back inside, updating his status on his phone.

* * *

><p>The next three days were a vicious power struggle between the Demacian and Noxian candidates. When Darius promised to return all the previous popular clubs, Jarvan rebutted by saying he'd approve all club applications. When Darius questioned where in the student budget they'd be able to afford every club, Jarvan promised a sizable donation from the president of Demacia.<p>

After a day of exaggerated and unlikely promises, the slander had begun. Rumors made their way from lips to texts telling of Jarvan's plan to raise lunch prices. Rumors of Darius already approving of a 'League of Draven' club. Rumors that the Demacian was only running so his father could pull the strings on the inside. Rumors that Darius's campaign was secretly being run by Swain to ensure a Noxus victory.

Finally the last day brought direct conflict. Who could eat the most burned hotdogs at lunch? Who could lift more weights than the other? Who would win in a one on one basketball game? Vice principal Volibear had to break up the arm wrestling contest in the boy's dorm at lights out and scatter the students to their rooms.

Friday morning the ballots were in and the vote was cast. All that was left was the waiting. Each one knowing it was still up in the air. Though neither one would admit it, they were nervous. Having underestimated their opponent, they were now truly seeing just how formidable they were. As they day came to a close, they found themselves each back in their respective homerooms to watch the results.

"This is Janna Windforce reporting live on Campus Campaign Coverage! The long awaited moment is here. The votes have been tallied and the results are in. We are joined now by counselor Shen, who has the final count. Take it away Shen."

"Understood," the Ionian man said in a dusky voice. The camera panned over to the counselor who had donned a blazer of his own, clearly caught up in Janna's news theatrics. "After receiving all ballots, there is no dispute. With honor, I announce the new student council president is..."

A dramatic pause gripped the entire school in a single moment. Was Jarvan's wild promises enough to earn him the victory? Or had Darius's hardball game changed hearts and minds in his favor?

This was it. The moment of truth. The final blow in this age old conflict.

The counselor cleared his throat before delivering the verdict. This was another cue from Janna, just a little something to spice up the news a bit. After Shen felt the drama was at it's climax, he quickly and flatly blurted out the winner. "Ashe. Congratulations."

* * *

><p>Ashe sat behind the large desk in the student council's office, her back to the orange sky of a setting sun. Her long white hair seemed to glow in the evening light. She fiddled with the pin on her blue vest. She liked the way it gleamed when she spun in her chair look out the window. The pin was her symbol of presidency.<p>

She turned back around and closed her laptop. Frowning as she surveyed the room, she reached into her bag and pulled a hard plastic case out. She didn't like what was inside, but she knew she needed it. Opening the case, she pulled out a pair of thick framed glasses and slid them over her ears and onto her nose.

Surveying the room she saw her boyfriend slash vice president Tryndamere moving the last of the chairs. He wore a blue vest like her, but he had ripped the sleeves off his buttoned shirt to reveal muscular arms. Ashe wondered what he saw in a nerdy girl like her, but being able to see his strong arms almost made wearing the glasses worth it. _Almost._

A long table had been placed in the middle of the room, perpendicular to her desk, with chairs lining it. To the left side of the room were some file cabinets that she had already gone through and organized a system. She'd planned to make physical copies of all the records she'd get, as a backup. On the wall to her right was a white board she had just finished cleaning. It looked brand new, just how she liked it.

"So, tell me again, how'd you know we'd win?" Tryndamere asked as he placed the last chair at the table.

"It's simple really. You chose your target, wait for the right moment, then strike with power and precision. I calculated everyone's alliances and used it to my advantage. I had to pick my targets carefully, two people who had more than political differences between them. I planted the rumor with Xin Zhao that Darius would be running knowing he'd pass it on to Jarvan. Jarvan would then enter the election and Janna's up to the minute news feed would flag Darius into the running through Talon, social media junkie. No one else would bother to enter against such titanic personalities, but neither truly wanted to win the office, they just wanted to win the competition.

"Once they were off making making this a popularity contest, I hit all the swing voters. The Ionian students, Piltover, Zaun and Bilgewater. While the popularity contest was taking attention off of me, I started to quietly spread the word. One school, one people, one Institute."

"So you're saying," Tryndamere rubbed his stubbly chin as he pieced it all together, "you started a fight between Jarvan and Darius so you could base your campaign on uniting the school and preventing these kinds of fights?"

"Don't say it like that! You make me sound so sinister. I was just uniting the strongest force. In the end, they only competed with half the votes, while I took the other half undivided." She had to admit to herself, it was a little sinister. But now she was here, and she was ready to make a change.

* * *

><p>"What did you think of the election?" the old principal asked his larger colleague. Vice principal Volibear was stirring milk into his coffee as he stirred the thoughts around in his mind.<p>

"I'm actually quite impressed with the way the Avarosan managed to seize power. But now we'll see if she deserves to keep it."

"No need to be so dramatic, Ursine." Labeling Volibear by his tribe's name was a risky gambit on Zilean's part. It usually brought up the unpleasantness between the two and broke whatever amount of tolerance they'd managed to build towards each other. "This isn't the civil war anymore. It's just a silly little high school election."

"If that's the case, you can stop bothering me with silly little questions. I've got work to do. If no one else is going to keep things together here, it may as well be me." The massive man stormed out of the teacher's lounge and the old man cocked a grin. He couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. Any victory, however small, he would take.


	3. Chapter 3: On The Case

As the school day drew to an end, the students gathered with their friends in the various classrooms. On a typical day like this most of the students would hang around after their last class. They would find their friends, gossip, plan for the evening, start their homework or wait for their clubs to meet. Jayce, however, was in his own little world. He sat at his desk with his head propped up in his hand as if it wouldn't keep itself up otherwise. It was his first year at the Institute so he didn't know many of the students. In fact, he maybe only knew one from back home.

As his gaze shifted around the room he scanned for potential. He'd seen Janna on the morning announcements, she was pretty cute. Jayce did like blondes. His eyes lingered for a moment before moving on to a girl with a long red braided ponytail. He wasn't sure of her name, but he thought he'd seen her with the guy who ran for student president. Something the Fourth? If they were dating then that's a shame. Jayce did like red heads. Traveling once more, his eyes ended on a girl who was just entering the room.

She strode in with a confidence that demanded his attention. Jayce started low. She wore thick sole boots that ran up to her knee, ready for business. His eyes continued up her creamy legs to her purple skirt, then locked on to her shiny belt buckle: a gear with a gap in it. It almost looked like the letter C. His eyes continued their trek up as he inspected her vested chest. He lingered for a while before he noticed the purple and yellow armband she wore. It had the same C-shaped gear as her belt. He wasn't quite sure what it signified and honestly didn't care at this point. Jayce finally found his way to her face. She had a stern expression, pursed lips and sharp eyes that surveyed the room. Her entire demeanor softened as she found her friend and a smile lit up her face in a way that made Jayce's heart race. Best of all, underneath a stylish purple and yellow stripped top hat flowed long, beautiful, silky brown hair. Jayce did like brunettes.

He had imagined her walking over to his desk. What would he say? Something smooth no doubt. She'd be drawn to his winning smile, his ruggedly handsome jawline and his expertly styled hair; swept back with a perfect spit curl in front. They'd then go to town, do a little shopping, maybe get something to eat (his treat). Then they'd walk back to their dorms in each other's arms and before the night was over, they'd kiss. _Oh Jayce_, she'd say. _Jayce. Jayce._

"Jayce! Runeterra to Jayce, come in. You there man?" A sudden snap in his face brought reality crashing back down upon him. His head slipped from his hand and he nearly bashed it into the desk. Looking up in anger he saw his friend from Piltover, Ezreal, had ruined his perfect moment.

Ezreal laughed as he sat back on the desk next to Jayce's. His uniform was simple, short sleeves and tie, but he wore a leather gauntlet on one arm. A replica from some Ionian anime he was a huge fan of. He also wore a pair of goggles for the same reason, resting on top of his wavy blonde head.

"You looked lost. You need a map?"

"Who is that girl?" Jayce asked ignoring the taunt. He was used to Ezreal's cocky ego and mocking jests by now. In fact they both shared those traits which is probably why they were friends in the first place. Ezreal followed his gaze to the brunette then turned back to Jayce.

"Oh, you don't know Caitlyn? She's from Piltover too, I'm surprised you never met her."

"Ez, I think I'm in love." After a pause Jayce quickly realized a slight problem. "Wait, does she have a boyfriend?"

"Well, no, she doesn't have a boyfriend, but-"

"Then my future is bright!" Jayce exclaimed as she stood from his desk. He pulled the collar of his jacket up in a way he felt made him look cooler and rolled his shoulders, loosening himself up as if things were about to get physical. After more than ideal prep time, Ezreal cut the warmup short with a whistle across the room, waving Caitlyn over.

"Yes, Ezreal?" she asked as she approached, the stern look back on her face. She spoke with an accent exclusive to, but not commonly used in, Piltover. Only the wealthy and privileged spoke with that accent. Jayce was finding her even more irresistible now.

"Hey Cait. Have you met Jayce? We're old buddies from Piltover."

"Is that so?" She turned to face the new student and offered her hand. "I'm Caitlyn. Charmed."

Jayce knew words. They existed, he was sure of it. He even knew how to make sounds that could be words. People would understand him if he made these sounds. Talking! That was it. He knew how to talk with words, he now simply needed the right ones. What were they? How did they work again? He extended his hand as well and shook a greeting as he tried his vocabulary.

"Yes." _Yes?_ That wasn't right. She was looking at him funny while Ezreal was grinning madly. Jayce stammered and cleared his throat for a second attempt. "I mean, yes, I'm Jayce. Pleasure to meet you." Having regained his composure, he released her hand and quickly slid his into his pockets. They were starting to sweat.

"Well I've got to get going," Ezreal said as he hopped down from the desk. "Anime club is starting in a few and I need to get some stuff ready. Catch ya later!" With that, Jayce was alone with the girl of his dreams. Just him. Her. And the silence...

Jayce was screaming internally. _Why is this awkward? Say something to her. Tell her about your project in shop class. No! Talk about her! Girls love talking about themselves and it'll make you seem interested. Yeah, that's the ticket._

"So, uh, nice armband. Is that... for something?" _Smooth._ Jayce leaned against his desk to try and play it cool, only to have the desk skid under his weight just enough to trip him up. He didn't fall, just lost his balance for a second. Upon recovery he sighed in relief. Caitlyn's gaze was turned to her arm as she idly tugged at the armband. She hadn't noticed.

"The student council president appointed me chief of the student disciplinary committee," she explained. "My partner and I were on the committee last year as well. It means if we see anything untoward happening we can step in. Bullying, cheating, curfew violations, unauthorized dorm visits..."

"Wow, so you're like the law here, huh?"

"Student rule enforcement has been shown to be an effective solution in many instances. It builds trust between the students and doesn't detract the teachers from their other responsibilities. Of course, the school counselor is notified of our decisions and is required to sit in on our peer to peer talks." Caitlyn was very passionate about this, Jayce could tell. She continued to tell him about procedure. Then she talked about cases from the year prior. Then she started to talk about... something. Her parents? Or partner? Maybe pen pal? Jayce had zoned out at this point so it's hard to tell. She was so cute the way she went on about whatever she was talking about. As Jayce "uh-huh"ed and nodded her on, a slight smile reappeared on her face bringing just a tinge of warmth and redness to Jayce's cheeks.

"So, Jayce," (_She said my name, time to pay attention!) _"Are you interested?" Caitlyn was still idly tugging at her armband as she looked up at him.

"Yes," he responded, this time yes being the right word. "I'm very interested. Maybe we could head into town? Do some shopping, maybe get something to eat? My treat."

"Oh?" She seemed pleasantly surprised by his answer. "Why, yes, that would be lovely."

"Great. Great! Yeah let's get-" before he could finish his thought, a voice called out across the room. It originated from a tall, lanky young man who was leaning against the door frame catching his breath. Most of his body was covered; long sleeve shirt, white gloves, he even wore a surgical mask over his face. All that could be seen were his eyes. And his gloriously golden hair. The two were in extreme contrast with each other. His eyes seemed sunken, circled and weak while his hair was rich and full with a lustrous shine.

"Caitlyn!" his cries silenced the room and turned all heads. "Please, come quick!" Caitlyn did just that, assuring everyone they could resume their business as she did so. Jayce followed in confusion.

"Catch your breath Singed," she said calmly. "When you're ready, tell us what happened."

"It's nearly time," he said, checking his watch as his breathing normalized. "We must hurry. My chemistry project has gone missing."  
>"Don't worry Singed. I'm on the case." The absolute conviction in her voice was normally awe-inspiring for those who heard it. In fact Singed felt greatly relieved to know she was there to help. Jayce, however, saw his afternoon of flirting and love starting to slip away. <em>Why this? Why now?<em>

"Maybe you should check lost and found," Jayce quickly suggested to Singed. Turning to Caitlyn he asked, "Didn't we just make plans? I'm sure he simply misplaced his project."

"Jayce, it's our duty to help those in need. The student disciplinary committee is about more than assigning detentions to delinquents. We need the peoples' trust if we're to be respected. If we just got people in trouble they would resent us and shun the order we help provide." The look of disapproval in her eyes struck Jayce right in the ego. Though she quickly shifted her demeanor, that look lingered in Jayce's mind. He decided then he would do everything in his power to make sure she never looked at him the same way again. If he were to ever stand a chance, he would have to do what was right. He would win her back!

"Right, Singed was it? Have you got any leads?" He spoke with confidence, convincing himself and the others present that he knew what he was talking about. Caitlyn nodded and quickly pulled a small notepad and pencil from her bag. A bit old fashioned, just the way she liked it.

"Even better, I know who did it!"

* * *

><p>Warwick's chemistry lab was adjacent to his classroom, separated by a glass wall. The room was very white and sterile. White walls, white tables, white chairs, white chemical lockers, white refrigerator, white lab coats hanging from hooks which, by chance, were white. Sitting across from Caitlyn at one of the tables was the accused who's hair matched the rest of the room: white.<p>

"Riven, I'm going to start by simply asking for the truth. Did you take Singed's project?" Caitlyn rested her arms on the table, her fingers interlaced before her. She sat upright with a posture that claimed dignity, but also kept her from being too imposing. In contrast, across the table Riven was slouching in her chair with arms crossed defiantly across her chest. The mean expression she wore had Jayce hesitant. She was not a delicate woman, her purple jacket battered and worn. Her gaze passed from Caitlyn, to Jayce, to student counselor Shen before narrowing in on Singed.

"No, I didn't!" she exclaimed at last. "I've learned from my mistakes. I'd never get caught up with _him_ again." The acidity in her voice as she said the word was vicious. It was filled with hate and contempt, but also a hint of guilt.

"You were in Mr. Warwick's class last period with Singed, were you not?" Caitlyn asked, undeterred.

"I was."

"And you stayed after the other students had left, did you not?"

"I did. But I was just cleaning up a mess from my project." Her gaze again turned to Singed. "Some of us prefer to keep things clean, instead of making a mess."

"And do you know what happened to his project?"

"No! And I don't want to know. For all I care he can fail this class."

"Doesn't sound very innocent to me," Singed instigated.

"Me?" Riven jumped from her seat and slammed her hands on the table, startling all but the student counselor who remained stoic. "You're one to talk of innocence. You are beyond redemption!" She thrust an accusing finger in his direction. "Do you know what this secret chemistry project of his is Caitlyn? Has he told you that? I'm sure if he finally told someone what he was working on you'd be trying to dispose of it!"

Caitlyn followed Riven's aim and turned to inspect Singed. He seemed very uncomfortable with the sudden turn of events, she could tell. His breathing, the darting glances, slight perspiration. "Well, Singed, is there something you'd like to add to this?"

"I-... uh..." He stammered to find the best response. "I don't see how it matters what my project it!"

This was it, Jayce's time to contribute. He stepped up to the intimidated student and used his larger frame to his advantage. With as much presence as he could muster he demanded, "The lady asked you a question Singed. Tell us, what were you working on?"

"I'll tell you what he was working on," Riven chimed in aggressively. "He was making another stink bomb, just like the one he used in middle school!"

"Stink bomb?" Caitlyn asked, seeking clarification. She rose from her seat as to not be the only one still sitting, and began to wander throughout the lab as Riven explained.

"It happened while we were in middle school. Noxus Middle School and Zaun Middle School had planned a field trip together to Ionia. It was so we could meet with other students and learn about different cultures. Some of the Noxian students got into an argument with some Ionian kids and started a fight. I went for help. But instead, I found _him_. He decided he'd help in his own way.

"Before I knew what was happening, he had flung some sort of bottle right into the middle of things. The next thing I know it cracked open and the worst, most foul smelling gas began to escape into the air. It was so bad everyone was in tears. Some kids started to throw up so bad they had to be taken to the hospital at risk of dehydration! It was the worse thing I've ever seen, but nobody else saw him do it. None of the teachers would believe me because the other Noxian students stood up for him! He's sick I tell you, and he's at it again!"

"Is that why you're wearing that mask Singed?" Jayce leaned in closer, trying to hammer away at his resolve. "Were you going to release another stink bomb? Trying to make sure you don't have to smell it?"

"I'm sick. Er, not like she says I'm sick. I'm actually sick!"

"Singed, how many beakers was your project in?" Caitlyn's voice drifted from across the room, muffled as she spoke into the refrigerator. Everyone was so caught up in the moment they hadn't noticed as she drifted away. All save for the student counselor, who still didn't show any sign of involvement at all in what was happening.

"Uh, just the one," Singed answered, unsure if he was condemning or liberating himself. They all turned to watch Caitlyn as she pulled several empty beakers from the fridge and wafted them under her nose, carefully smelling the contents. She made note of the names on each beaker before placing them all back from which they came and shutting the door.

"I believe Riven is innocent. I also have reason to believe Singed was not working on a stink bomb. But a new urgent matter is upon us. Singed, would your project be poisonous if ingested?"

"Well, yes. It's not intended to be drank."

"Quickly," Caitlyn fired off desperately, "Who sat next to you during class?" Singed placed his hand to his chin as he thought back to the answer. As if she already knew, Caitlyn spoke in sync with Singed as he answered. "Gragas!"

"Gragas stole my project? But why?"

"Hurry, I'll explain on the way. We have to stop him!"

* * *

><p>As the four students rushed through the halls at full speed, Caitlyn clung to her hat for dear life with one hand, her other tapping away furiously at her mobile phone. They were running from room to room trying to find where the guilty party might have went. After checking the main classrooms on the floor, they descended down to the ground level and continued their search.<p>

"Cait, slow down," Jayce wheezed, his chest on fire from the sudden exertion. "Why did Gragas steal the project?"

Caitlyn was barely breathing heavily, all of the running scarcely affecting her at all. Or maybe she simply knew how to hide it better. "He didn't know he was stealing it. I found his empty beakers right next to the one Singed was using. And do you know what he was working on?" The others looked amongst themselves and collectively shrugged. Caitlyn added on, in attempts to clear it up, "What would Gragas make if given the opportunity? What is the one thing he loves most?"

With that they understood and everything clicked in place. Except for Jayce. He wasn't sure who Gragas was, or what it was he loved most.

"Soda!" Singed and Riven said in unison, regretting the fact.

"Exactly! His beakers smelled like soda. He must have thought your project was one of his creations and bottled it up. If we don't hurry, he could drink it at any moment. And knowing how quickly Gragas goes through soda..." She let her sentence hang, not wasting anymore time on exposition.

As if summoned to punctuate her statement, a loud barreling sound echoed through the halls. A rumbling, disgusting burp from off in the distance. The call of one who drinks his soda too fast. Gragas had left the building. Without a word the four were racing again down the halls, heading for the main entrance.

A jumbled cacophony of warnings echoed across the quad as the four burst through the opening in the massive wooden doors. But just as their yelling over each other only made their shouts indeterminable, their running had broken out of conjunction as well. Jayce's legs had finally given up on him, mad at his abuse and refused to do his bidding any longer. As he went down his arms flailed in protest, grabbing whatever, or whoever, they could and dragging them down as well. The four looked on is horror as the oblivious, round bellied, wild red haired student put a new bottle to his lips to take a deep swig.

"Boom, baby!" A streak of pink lightning flashed onto the scene and before anyone could register the situation, the bottle had been knocked free from it's grasp and sent flying through the air, spraying it's contents out in an aerial dance. The pink lightning, now a stationary pink-haired girl, pumped an arm victoriously as the bottle drained the rest of it's contents into the dirt. "Yeah! Teamwork!"

"Ow! Me hand!" Gragas bellowed as his senses came about him. Then, as if more pained by the sight cried out even louder, "No, not me soda!"

"Heh, no need to thanks us. Piltover's Finest, on the case."

"Vi!" Caitlyn barked as she pushed herself up from the ground. The pink-haired girl froze in place, closing her eyes to try and relish the moment just a little while longer. "You better not have broken his hand. The school year just started and you're already acting recklessly."

"But, your text," Vi defended. "You told me not to let him drink it! I couldn't just grab it. I've got these gloves on! See?" She held both hands up to prove her point. The girl was, in fact, wearing gloves that prevented any manual dexterity. A pair of red boxing gloves. As an aside she added disappointed, "There wasn't enough interest for a boxing club this year either. Student council wouldn't appffft-" Her words turn to hysterical laughter as she pointed an arm in Jayce's direction.

Confused, Jacye finally pulled himself to his feet again and looked himself up and down. He was a little dirty, sure, but nothing to laugh at. Though as he began to pat himself down he realized something was amiss. _Wait, where did I get this... uh... what is this?_ He tried to make sense of the item he found mysteriously in his grasp. It was out of place, that's for sure, but why? What was it? _Is this... hair?_

And then the last horse crossed the finish line as Jayce turned to Singed. "Your hair..." he said, putting the puzzle together. "It's a wig?"

Angrily, Singed snatched the wig from his hands and attempted to adjust it back onto his bald head. What little of his face could be seen was turning bright red. "I told you I was sick. And yes, my sickness made my hair fall out. My project wasn't a stink bomb, I was trying to make an oil to help my hair grow back!"

The sound of laughter filled the silence until Caitlyn snapped at Vi, the only one oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. With tears welling in his eyes, Singed quickly turned away from the group and tried to escape, only to be cut off by Riven.

"Singed, wait." She hesitated, unsure of exactly how she should feel. Here before her, a man she hated was vulnerable and defeated. She had wanted this moment for so long. Victory would finally be hers, redemption at last. But instead, she simply adjusted his hair, making sure it looked natural. She then placed her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "What is broken can be reforged."

The words seemed to steel the man's resolve and, after wiping his eyes dry, he walked back into the school alongside his rival. Meanwhile Jayce watched as Gragas pulled another bottle of soda from his backpack, all pain from his hand seemingly gone, and took the large swig he was denied from the last bottle. Uninterested in the events around him, he simply wandered off with a loud burp. Jayce, completely dumbfounded by the way his afternoon had unfolded, turned back to the two girls.

"GG Cupcake!" Vi said as she patted Caitlyn's backside with a gloved hand. She was wearing a blue track suit. An acceptable school uniform, though typically only worn during PE or sports clubs, Jayce recalled seeing her around the school wearing the same outfit. On her arm was a matching purple and yellow armband to Caitlyn's. Her hair was an expression of her individuality, long and wild on one side, buzzed short on the other, tied back into a ponytail. Three pieces of tape on her cheek seemed to spell out her name, VI.

"I've told you before, don't 'good game' me. This isn't one of your sports clubs." Caitlyn's voice was terse but Jayce could see a hint of crimson in her cheeks. A smile slowly creaked onto her face, a familiar smile he had seen her wear before. _I remember now, Vi was in my class this afternoon. She was the one Cait came to see._ "Vi, did you bring it?"

"Oh yeah, it's in my pocket. Get it for me?" Vi whined as she began to bite at the Velcro straps on the wrists of her gloves, attempting to free her hands. Jayce watched as Caitlyn casually slipped her hands into Vi's pockets, one after another probing around. The familiarity between the two caused Jacye's mind to wander further. _Wait, that smile. Cait smiled like that when she saw Vi in the classroom. She smiled again when she was talking about her, her partner! Wait... does this mean?..._

Caitlyn had found what she was looking for by the time Vi had freed her first hand. "Jayce, since you said you were interested earlier, I'd like to officially welcome you onto the student disciplinary committee." She extended her hand, offering Jayce a purple and yellow armband of his own. Struggling to come to terms with the situation, he took the armband with an absent thanks.

"Welcome aboard newbie! Put 'er there!" Vi grabbed Jayce's hand and a sudden rush of pain shot up his arm. Her grip was like steel and he couldn't stop the yelp that left his throat in response.

"Broken hands!" Caitlyn warned as Vi grinned in satisfaction. She released her death grip and smiled up at Jayce smugly. "Well, now that we're all here," Caitlyn continued on, "Jayce has offered to take us shopping. And to buy us dinner."

"I what?" he asked.

"Your treat, right?" Caitlyn echoed his offer from earlier.

"Aww yeah! I know a great buffet place, c'mon!" Vi grabbed both members' arms and dragged them out through the gates.

* * *

><p>"So, how did things with you and Caitlyn go last night, eh?" Ezreal asked as he sat himself on the desk next to Jayce's. Another school day over and Jayce was still at a loss. He simply tugged at the armband, drawing his friend's attention to it. "Ha! So she roped you into that huh? She asked me to join but, eh, not my thing. But hey, you can be Jayce!" he ran his hand through the air, as if reading an invisible marquee, "Defender of Tomorrow!"<p>

"Shut up Ez," Jayce rebutted, resting his head on his desk. "Things were going so well until... _She_ showed up."

"So what happened? Details. Go."

"First we did some shopping. Caitlyn and Vi got a matching pair of aviator sunglasses. They weren't cheap."

"Ouch," Ezreal empathized.

"Then we went to an expensive buffet. Again, my treat."

"That's rough buddy."

"Of course Vi ate too much and got sick, so Caitlyn helped walk her back to the dorm in each other's arms."

"And just like that you let chivalry die?"

"She wouldn't let me help! Said I was too tall or something..."

"So that was it then?" Ezreal asked.

"No, then there was the kiss."

"She kissed you?" The blonde nearly slipped from his seat in shock.

"No," Jayce groaned. "She kissed Vi. I'm telling you man, I've got a broken heart. I don't think I can ever love again. I just don't know if... If..." Jayce sat up straight as something caught his attention. "Hey Ez, who's that girl?" Following Jayce's gaze, Ezreal looked at the doorway and answered, "Oh, that's Luxanna. But everyone calls her Lux."

"Lux," Jayce tested the name. "I think I'm in love..."

"Wait, no! Hold on, back up, stop! You can't!"

With a surge of renewed purpose Jayce shot up from seat and exclaimed "My future is bright!"


	4. Chapter 4: Pentakill

Saws whirred and screamed as they tore through wood with ease. A loud clang of metal on metal as a massive hammer pounded away, forcing a shape on the thin steel sheet. The sharp cracking of a MIG welder accompanied by a flash of sparks and heat echoed out in short bursts. The sounds of Viktor's shop class, a mad cacophony of industrial progress, were merely playing background for Mordekaiser as he tried to turn the volume on his MP3 player up even louder. It was already at max which wasn't quite loud enough. The wailing guitars, machine gun drumming and hate fueled screams could never be loud enough for Mordekaiser.

The full force of a scrawny body slammed against him and dragged him from his world of nightmares and dragons back to Runeterra. He lifted the darkened shield of his welding mask, a custom made metal mask with three massive metal horns welded to it, revealing his eyes. Karthus, a gaunt kid with pale sunken features and a black t-shirt three sizes too big over his school uniform didn't even budge Mordekaiser, who was almost as wide as he was tall. Mordekaiser pulled the buds from his ears and returned the greeting with a sick riff from his air guitar.

"We're going to win the talent show for ssssuuuuuuuuure!" Karthus sang out, his raspy voice screeching out into an imaginary microphone for their millions of fans to hear. He pumped his fist in the air, two skeletal fingers protruding like horns.

Hobbling in to join the duo, Yorick hunched over and slapped away at a shovel which imagination had repurposed as a bass guitar. He shook his head to the beat within, causing his long black hair to fall forward and conceal his face. The three jammed out until their song reached a climax, punctuated by the ringing of the bell releasing them from another day of toil. The band quickly grabbed their backpacks and ran for the door. In a moment they were gone, only for Karthus to return and throw the horns up one more time.

"Thank you shop class!" he yelled out one last time to his hoards of screaming fans. "Rock on!" He ran back out to catch up with the rest of the band, leaving behind no actual screaming fans, but one not-entirely-amused teacher. Viktor simply sighed and shook his head, looking over at the mess of projects they left behind.

"Inferior constructs," he noted as he graded their work with a red pen.

* * *

><p>Across the school, in a room as far away from any other clubs as possible, the trio had just finished practicing another song. Unlike before, they were now using proper instruments, the music no longer simply in their minds. The screaming fans however still only existed in a dream world.<p>

"Yeah! This talent show is ours for sure," Karthus enthusiastically cheered. His voice was forever a rasp but refused to give out even after hours of screaming. "I think I felt a chill."

"We rock," Yorick agreed in a low tone that matched his instrument of choice, "but we're still missing one thing." Without saying what, Mordekaiser and Karthus turned to the drum kit behind them, an empty seat haunting the set. Mordekaiser sighed behind his mask in disappointment.

"I guess no one is showing up for tryouts today either," his voice rumbled out from behind metal. "Maybe if Janna would say we're the most kick ass band in the school looking for a hard ass drummer like I asked her too we'd get someone to show. But no, you can't say 'ass' during the morning announcements. Censorship is the worst fu-," a knocking at the door cut his rant short as the three quickly snapped their heads toward the sound. It was faint, a shy knocking that hoped it was simply overheard and ignored, sparing it from pressure of drawing attention to itself.

After a confused moment of silence, the door slowly creaked open and a shock of bright blue hair poked through just far enough for a single matching blue eye to peer in. The eye made contact with each boy individually before the rest of the girl's body squeezed through the opening.

Sona Buvelle stood almost pressed against the wall near the door, unable to move any further with the weight of the band's gaze on her. Her long blue hair was pulled back in two ponytails that raced down her back and to her legs. She wore a blue jacket and a long skirt that flowed to the floor, concealing her feet. As the door quietly banged shut behind her she jumped in a panic, looking as if she was floating for a moment and causing her to drop the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"Um, are you here for an audition?" Mordekaiser finally broke the ice. The girl nodded her head vigorously, confidence slowly building. "Really? How long have you played the drums?" Confidence shattered, Sona lowered her head and shook a no. She promptly held up a finger, asking for a moment as she knelt down to her bag and quickly fumbled with the zipper. After solving the puzzle that is pulling a zipper, she drew out a black violin case.

The latches to the case were much easier for the girl to open, the sight of her instrument emboldening her. She pulled the antique violin out and rest it on her shoulder, standing upright as she positioned the bow on the strings. She slowly began to pull a few notes, beautifully playing a score of long, somber tones.

But beauty didn't cut it for Mordekaiser, the self proclaimed Master of Metal. He folded his arms and shift his weight on one foot impatiently, coming closer and closer to simply rejecting the girl. Sona heard his movements, her eyes closed as she focused on the music. She realized this approach wouldn't work and quickly changed pace. Making the strings howl out in an ear piercing yelp, she started to play faster. Her fingers deftly worked the strings, the bow flying back and forth with a vengeance.

With a collective "Whao!" the three boys perked up and took notice, entranced by what they heard. It was familiar and new all at the same time. Sona knocked out a heavy metal guitar solo on the classical instrument. When she finished, a round of applause spilled forth from the awe-struck band members.

"I didn't know you listened to Vile Maw! They're one of my favorite bands!" Mordekaiser bellowed in shock. "What else do you listen to?"

Sona spread her arms wide to express the diversity of her musical styling. She then placed the violin back into position and played again. Starting with a more traditional classical, her genre changed to a folksy tune, then to country fiddling, into modern jazz and finally back to metal. Another short burst of applause followed.

"We have got to have that sound," Yorick said, giving his approval.

"Hmm, she has the sound, sure. But don't you think she's missing... something?" Karthus mused as he rubbed his bony chin.

Sona flustered, quickly digging through her bag yet again for props. With two quick tugs, a flip of her hair and some adjusting she stood back up. Her wrists were adorned with spiked black leather bracers and a blood red wig replaced her shocking blue hair. A quick application of black lipstick completed the transformation from school girl to succubus in a matter of seconds. The boys nodded in unison.

"Yeah, she's so in," Mordekaiser vocalized their thoughts. Sona bounced, unable to contain her elation, before remembering her new persona and simply tossing up the heavy metal horns appropriately. "But we still need a drummer..."

Sona opened her mouth as one who had just been struck with a brilliant idea might. She tapped her temple, then pantomimed a drumming motion.

"You know a drummer?" Yorick made sense of her actions. "Who is it?"

She began to reply before Karthus cut her off.

"Is it Jax? I bet he knows how to play."

Sona shook her head and tried to start again.

"Oh! Varus? He seems like the type!"

Sona again shook her head, irritation building. She composed herself and tried one more time.

"Malphite? He seems like he rocks."

"KARTHUS!" the other two boys yelled.

"Sorry."

After a shaming, resentful stare, Sona finally took a deep breath and gave her answer. She pulled the collar of both her jacket and shirt up, then leaned back slightly and pointed two fingers at the boys with a cocky grin on her face. After a pause, Mordekaiser had to confirm.

"Wait... you mean..."

* * *

><p>"BROOOOOO!" The call echoed through the hallway, arrogantly demanding everyone's attention. The source of the call swaggered his way down the hall, both jacket and shirt collar popped as Sona had demonstrated. Twice the collar, twice the awesome. It's science. Sleeves rolled up to the elbow, two yellow wristbands adorned a meaty wrist with the slogan '<em>Now and Forever<em>' embossed in it. The second wristband? Well, that was like a lifeline.

"Outta the way nerd," the spiky haired blonde said as he shoved another student to the side, knocking their cowboy hat askew.

"Nobody touches the hat," he muttered as he fixed it's position low on his head before slinking away.

"Brolaf!" Garen greeted with a raised fist, ready for bumping.

"Bromacia!" Olaf responded with an explosive fist bump. "Sup ladies?" he greeted the others. Jarvan, unamused with being called a lady, simply _humph_ed his response. "So G-Man, where's your sister? She say anything about me?"

"How dare you-" Xin Zhao started as he moved in on the bro. Garen threw his arm up to hold him back, laughing nervously as he hoped the situation could smooth out. Xin was normally unflappable but when something got him going he had little restraint. So it was with a divine act (and an audible sigh of relief from Garen) that Xin decided to let the comment about Lux slide.

"Whao! Chillax man. I was just kidding," Olaf verbally defended himself. "So what's up for tonight? Wanna hit up the arcade? Grab some 'zza? Get a game of ultimate Frisbee going?"

"Actually _we_ have basketball practice," Jarvan answered tersely, cutting the bro off from any more suggestions he may have had. His voice was cruel, the way he emphasized 'we' to exclude Olaf evidence of the fact.

"Yeah, sorry Brolaf. Maybe next time," Garen offered.

"Alright well hey, now and forever. Right Bromacia?" Olaf raised a fist and tugged at one of the wristbands with a finger. Garen halfheartedly returned the gesture, raising a fist but lacking any wristbands to show, as he turned to follow his crew to the gymnasium.

"Have fun playing with your balls!" Olaf yelled after them, laughing to himself as he checked to see if anyone else heard him. They did, but they didn't share any of his humor. Most of the other students simply ignored the bro and went about their business. He wanted to believe it didn't bother him, that he didn't feel so dejected by everyone avoiding him. But why would they? He was a friends with the popular kids. Well, sort of. And he was funny, he had all the best insults. So what was it?

Just as Olaf's thoughts were dragging him down, he heard someone calling his name and completely dashing the doubts from his mind.

"Olaf, we've been looking for you," Mordekaiser said as he approached with the band.

"Hey, whao, what's up with the face mask? You too ugly to go out in public?" Olaf saw eyes narrow through the slit in the mask.

"I like my headgear how I like my music," Mordekaiser responded. "Heavy and metal."

"Which brings us to you," Karthus added.

"We need a drummer," Yorick finished.

Sona nodded enthusiastically.

"I- uh..." Shocked, Olaf stammered over his words as his mind raced for a response. "I don't- I mean, I can't play the drums. Heh, you guys. Uh, crazy." He began to laugh nervously as he absentmindedly tugged at a wristband.

Sona waved to get the group's attention. She quickly pointed to her eye, then pretended to drum in the air, followed by rubbing her fingertips across her thumb (in the manner of one who was asking for money.) The seemingly sporadic actions had the bro at a loss.

"Uh, what?"

"She's saying," Yorick translated, "that she saw you playing drums at the music store."

Olaf swallowed hard. _Busted._ He had, in fact, been at the music store recently. Last weekend he had been out on the town when he stumbled across it. Bored, alone, he wandered in when he saw it. A drum set ready to be played. _What harm could it do? _he figured. After all, it had been a while since he last played. He just wanted to see if he'd gotten a little rusty. Had he known he was being watched, or rather heard...

"Alright alright keep it down will you?" Olaf spoke in hushed tones as his head swung around, checking for anyone who may have overheard. "Let's talk somewhere else okay?"

* * *

><p>Back in the band's practice room, Olaf occupied the drum set with drumsticks in hand. He twirled them idly as he gazed back at the others. They had been waiting expectantly for a few moments.<p>

"So if I play for you guys, just once, you'll leave me alone?" he asked, seeking confirmation for the third time since he'd sat down.

"Just play something," Mordekaiser barked, getting irritable. "We'll leave you alone if that's what you want after you're done."

"Alright," Olaf gulped, "here goes nothing." The bro began his solo starting with a steady rhythm. He then picked up the tempo and started to deviate from the simple beat. Sona smiled brightly as he continued, the others nodding in approval. He wasn't bad. In fact he was quite surprisingly good. It wasn't metal enough, but the potential was there. As he finished playing, rolling a close on the cymbals, he quickly put the sticks down and stood up.

"All done! I'm out. Smell ya later."

"Wait!" Mordekaiser stepped for the door, blocking the bro's escape. "That was great! You should join our band and play with us at the talent show."

"No way Brosé," the bro quickly answered. "Playing in front of the whole school? Not happening. One and done, that's all you get."

"Why not?" Mordekaiser continued, not budging from his position.

"Because, uh, drummers don't get chicks," Olaf responded, trying to convince both the band and himself of this excuse.

Sona put her hands together in the shape of a heart, pumping it in front of her chest with a warm smile. "She's right," Karthus added in an effort to help. "Chicks dig anyone if they're in a band!"

Olaf was backing up, looking for another exit. His hand tugging again at the wristband. They were getting closer to his secret and it was making him sweat. He couldn't just tell them the truth. His life as he knew it would be over. He'd have to pack his bags. Move back to the Freljord. Work at his dad's dealership.

"Look, how about just one more? With the band," Mordekaiser offered. "Let's see how we all sound together and then you decide."

Reluctantly, Olaf agreed. Better this than more questions. "Okay, fine. I can do that." The band excitedly grabbed their instruments and started tuning them when Olaf shocked them with a sudden moment of clarity. "So, you got a sheet for me to play off of or what?"

Mordekaiser looked to Karthus, who turned his gaze to Yorick, who returned his attention back to Mordekaiser with a shrug. "We don't really have anything," Yorick answered for them.

"Well, how do you expect me to play without knowing what we're doing?" It was a fair point. Even Sona had to agree, albeit with a pout. "Alright well hey, how about this? Instead of playing, why don't we go get a game of ultimate Frisbee going? And when you guys get some sheet music, say tomorrow, or never, then we play. How about it?"

With a round of shrugs, the band passively agreed.

* * *

><p>"Is he dead?" Olaf asked as he cautiously approached Karthus's seemingly lifeless body. He was not dead, rather simply very close to it. Face down in the grass he wheezed for each breath to sustain him just a little longer. An uncharacteristic red tint took to his face as his heart raced like it never had before. Hobbling up, Yorick pushed the head of his shovel into the ground with a foot, ready to do his job.<p>

"Do you require my services?" he mocked, leaning on the handle. Karthus simply raised an arm, a taxing gesture as it quickly fell limp. "Hm, then I will bury you alive!" He chuckled to himself as the exhausted singer simply couldn't defend himself.

The band had moved out from their practice hall to one of the fields behind the school. The sun hung low, casting off it's last light and painting the sky with oranges and reds. The day was done, and much like Karthus, it was changing colors and slowly fading away.

Activity of any kind were anathema to him, ultimate frisbee was no exception. He weakly tried to push himself from the ground and with a little help from Olaf (doing all the work really) he managed to sit up, a few blades of grass still imprinted on his features.

"Sports really aren't your thing, huh?" the bro mused.

"Float..." wheeze, "on..." Unsure of what to make of that, Olaf simply shrugged up at Yorick. The two had been pretty bad at the so-called sport, but they sure gave it their all. Olaf had 'much respect' for that.

While the three had been chasing the plastic disc, Mordekaiser and Sona sat off to the side, hard at work on their own project. Mordekaiser had brought his guitar, hooked up to a battery powered amp hanging from his belt. Sona had several sheets in front of her, all lined and ready for musical notes. Slowly the two of them were composing, Mordekaiser playing while Sona transcribed.

"Maybe we should get him to the nurse?" Olaf asked hauling the singer over to the other two. Karthus had one arm around Olaf's shoulders, the other around Yorick's, and the height difference caused him to drag one foot lopsidedly as he tried to walk. Yorick might have been as tall as Olaf if he hadn't always hunched over so much.

Mordekaiser looked him over, strumming a few errant cords as he did so. "Nah, he'll be fine," he deduced. "Besides, this whole _living_ thing is highly overrated. And it's getting late, if we don't hurry they will close the cafeteria on us." Sona pat her stomach in agreement and hastily put her papers away.

"I'm going to _shovel_ it in!" Yorick quipped happily, holding his shovel before him. Karthus managed a groan, his breath calming and heart rate slowing. Sona smiled, she actually enjoyed those kinds of jokes. But she put her face in her hand and shook her head anyway, not wanting to encourage it. For everyone else's sake.

"Hey, Brorick, I've been meaning to ask," Olaf paused for a second, wondering if there was an appropriate way to continue. None coming to mind, he pressed on. "What's with the shovel man?"

Yorick laughed, which turned into a small coughing fit, before he answered. "It's an heirloom. My family runs a funeral home and owns a graveyard. Final Rest Memorial. My father says this shovel was used to dig the very first plot by our forefathers."

"Creepy," Olaf shuddered, feeling a chill run down his spine.

"Yorick has the best job!" Karthus managed his first sentence since the game started.

"Corpses in his basement. Digging graves. And he gets to drive a hearse!" Mordekaiser's excitement grew with the list. "So metal!"

"Well, do you have to always carry it around?" Olaf proceeded. "I mean, maybe just leave it in your room once in a while. Try to be normal?"

Mordekaiser's scoff was the only response as a tense silence fell between them.

_These people are crazy! I knew they were weird but... They might actually kill me! Poor Sona, she must be terrified._ Looking over at Sona proved she was, at least outwardly, the opposite of terrified. The normally shy, quiet girl now seemed confident (though still quiet.) She was walking in full strides, making faces and signing her thoughts freely with the other boys. Olaf never really noticed her before. She always kept to herself, sitting in the back of the class or eating lunch alone. The Sona that Olaf vaguely remembered was meek, stiff and sheepish. The girl he was looking at now was bubbly, fluid and excitable.

_ They've brainwashed her! I need to get out before they make me drink the punch too! _As the group neared the courtyard, Olaf planned his escape. It would require perfect timing, execution and no small amount of courage.

"I think I'm just gonna head to bed," _Perfect! It's a foolproof, air tight alibi. Now sell it._ Olaf stretched and forced an over-exaggerated yawn. "Real tired, so much ultimate Frisbee. Catch ya later!" He did it! He broke off from the group, distancing himself as quickly as possible.

"Aren't you hungry?" Yorick asked, freezing the bro in his tracks. As he looked back, he saw Sona pretending to spoon food into her mouth with a quizzical look on her face.

"Hungry?" _Crap! They found the one and only flaw in my plan. Think fast, need to think fast._ "Uh, nah! Heh, I'll just have a protein shake. Gotta stay cut. This guy knows what I'm talking about." He pointed two fingers at Mordekaiser enthusiastically before turning and running off.

_Phew, close one._ It wasn't until Olaf was in the dorm commons that he finally realized he was playing with his wristband again.

* * *

><p>The bell heralded the end of another school day as students filled the halls. Olaf cautiously poked his head out of the room and ran his gaze up and down to make sure it was safe. He had so far managed to avoid the group all day, though he did have a few close calls. Now all he needed to do was get to his dorm room and he'd be safe.<p>

He scanned to the left: _Bromacia and his crew, nerds, Hat Dude, babes. It's safe._ He scanned to the right: _Mr. Ryze, more nerds, the po-po (Hey! Maybe I can ask them to protect me! Nah, asking two chicks for help? Weak.) No sign of the death band. Seems safe. Okay here's the plan. I'll take the long way to the right. It's furthest from their practice room so I'll have lower chances of running into them. Go down to the second floor and head for the center staircase to avoid the lockers on the first floor. Once I'm at the main entrance I'll slip out and-..._

A weak tap on his shoulder startled Olaf from his thoughts. He turned to find blue hair and a shy smile bashfully vying for his attention. "Sona! How did-? Where did-?" He tried to make sense of it. How could she have sneaked pass him? Is she some kind of ninja? Or... maybe... "Were you here the whole time?"

The girl very minutely nodded her head, the corners of her mouth turning to a frown. Once again she'd gone unnoticed. Olaf let out a sigh, guilt hitting him as he watched her errantly fumble with a few sheets of paper in her hand. She extended her arm, offering him the papers as she turned her head to spare them the chance of meeting gazes.

Olaf stared at the pages. Music sheets. It was the drums, his part of the song. Looking it over, he flipped through the pages a few times and heard the music in his head as he did. _This is intense. I've never played anything like this before. I don't even know if I could._

"Did you do this up on your own?" Shaking a no, Sona placed her hands on her head and extended her fingers like horns. Not seeing the spark of recognition on his face, she waved her hand in front of her face where a mask would be worn. Still not clear enough for the bro, she pointed at the bottom of the final sheet, where her and Mordekaiser had signed their work.

"Oh. Right. Wow you guys really did this in one day huh?" Sona nodded proudly, motioning spoonfuls of air into her mouth and opening an imaginary book. She twisted her face, wondering if he really couldn't just figure out what she was trying to say. They worked through lunch and study hall, she was plain as day.

Resigned to not having a clue what she was going on about, Olaf decided to shift the conversation to more pressing matters.

"Look, Brona, I've gotta ask," his voice softened to a near whisper and he leaned in closer, not wanting _them_ to hear. Not that they were anywhere near enough to hear. "Don't those guys seem a little creepy? I mean, the whole death thing kind of bothers me. And they're kind of losers, you know?"

Sona crossed her arms and huffed at his words. She made a heart shape with her hands and put it over her chest before moving her hands up to her throat and mimed choking. She followed with a shrug and quizzical look on her face. Pointing at Olaf, she pulled her collars up and struck her best bro pose, before making heart hands one more time.

Olaf had no idea what any of it meant. He rubbed his chin. He scratched his head. He ran his fingers through his hair. None of this made her intentions any clearer. But he did have another thought. A brilliant one if he'd dare say so himself.

"I have no idea what you're saying but I know who can fix that! Follow me!"

Rushing room to room, Olaf flung open doors and scanned the occupants inside. Sona tailed him, hiding behind his size as each open door was greeted with confused and curious glares from those within. Finally, by the third door, Olaf found his target and pulled Sona into the room. Dragging a chair to the back of the room, Olaf spun it around and pulled it up to a desk occupied by a pudgy boy. His steel frame glasses were perfectly round. Looking up at the two, he tapped away at his phone with one hand.

"_HELLO! HOW-CAN-I-HELP-YOU?_"His phone spoke out in a droll, monotonous voice for him.

"Blitzcrank!" Olaf greeted him with extra enthusiasm, trying his best to warm him up. It was hard tell how he was feeling at any given time. Blitzcrank never showed any emotion on his face. He could be the happiest person in the world or in a sever state of depression, you'd only know if he decided to tell you with his phone. The popular theory was that he had a terrible stutter and was too afraid to talk. Others speculated a much worse, sadder story of some form of childhood trauma. Olaf certainly didn't know, or care why really. He was willing to put up with weirdness if it meant he could understand Sona.

"So look, buddy, we kind of need your help. See Sona here? Well, she's a muse." Sona leaned in to look at the bro with a puzzled look on her face. After a moment passed, Olaf decided to elaborate. "You know, she can't talk."

"_I-THINK-YOU-MEAN-SHE-IS-MUTE._"

"She's not a TV brah," Olaf corrected matter-of-factly. "Anyway, I was wondering if she could use your phone talky thing so we can finally understand her."

"_SO-NOW-I-AM-YOUR-BRO? I-THOUGHT-I-WAS-A-NERD._"

"What!?" Olaf exclaimed with false offense. "Who said that? I'll beat them up, the jerk." He balled his hand into a fist, showing he meant business.

"_YOU-DID,_" Blitzcrank replied, his expressionless face a perfect contrast to Olaf's overly exaggerated display. "_SEVERAL-TIMES-IN-FACT._"

"C'mon brah, you know I was just kidding right?" He shrugged defensively as Sona furrowed her brow, looking down at him. "Alright, alright I'm sorry. Okay? I mean nerds are cool now anyway, so it was kind of like a compliment."

Blitzcrank ran the apology around in his mind, processing the words' sincerity and weighing it against the past distress he'd caused him. Coming to his conclusion, he tapped at his phone. "_OKAY. I-WILL-HELP. SONA-MAY-I-PLEASE-HAVE-YOUR-PHONE?_"

Snapping his fingers twice, Olaf held out his hand for Sona's phone. After a quick search of her bag, careful not to disturb the wig too much, she finally found it and handed it off. It was an older device, a few years off from the current model of Blitzcrank's. As Olaf passed it over he wondered if it was even going to run whatever it was Blitz was using, but without a word the boy connected the two phones with a cable and began a transfer. After about a minute passed, he separated the devices and tapped away at the older phone, getting everything set.

Handing the phone back to the girl, Blitzcrank tapped at his own phone, "_FIRED-UP-AND-READY-TO-SERVE._"

Sona took her phone and tapped at the screen. A look of joy ran over her face as she began to tap faster and faster, ready for the world to hear her first words. Her face ran a marathon of emotions; big smiles, focused determination, thoughtful consideration. If Blitzcrank could form a sentence in just a few taps, surely Sona was writing a novel. What things she must want to say, never having a voice of her own until now. What greatness had the world been missing behind the quiet restrictions? The veil was finally lifted, and Sona sent her words out into the world.

"_ER-HEAR-ME-TALK-LULL-LESS-THAN-THREE-LESS-THAN-THREE-LESS-THAN-THREE._" Blitz had made the voice a higher, feminine pitch for her though it still spoke with the flat, robotic monotone droll. The two boys looked at each other, one with a face of confusion, the other a blank slate. Blitzcrank gently pulled her hand towards him so he could look at her phone. The message still on her screen read: _ur hear me talk lol **(a/n it seems I can't use the symbol, she's texting little hearts)**  
><em>

"_SONA. PLEASE-TRY-NOT-TO-USE-INTERNET-SHORTHAND,_" he tapped a response. Sona pulled her hand back and began to type, once again building up a rather lengthy reply.

"_ESERRI-ILL-TRY-NOT-COLON-OPEN-PARENTHESIS,_" she frowned as the voice rang out. This time she held her phone out so they could read: _sry ill try not :(_

"_YOU-HAVE-TO-SPELL-THE-WORDS-OUT. AND-IT-DOES-NOT-DO-EMOTICONS._" The speed and quality of Blitzcrank's responses made it look so easy. Sona tried one more time, determined to make this work. She typed and typed, shaking her head at each correction she had to make. She read and re-read her words. With a critical eye she scanned the screen before she made the bold decision to delete it all and try again.

"_ENVY-EM-COLON-OPEN-PARENTHESIS,_" she turned her phone so the emoticon aligned with her face: _nvm :(_

"I don't think this is going to work," Olaf admitted, vocalizing everyone's defeat.

"_PRECIESLY,_" Blitzcrank seconded.

"What's not going to work?" a voice rumbled out startling Olaf. Turning to the front of the room, he saw as Mordekaiser and the band gathered behind him. "I got a text from Sona. 'You can hears me.' You is just the letter u, hears spelled with a z. Then a bunch of hearts and smiley faces and the room number. What's going on?"

Sona held up her phone and repeated the last message, "_ENVY-EM-COLON-OPEN-PARENTHESIS._"

"What was that?" Karthus asked as he looked around, not quite sure he trusted his senses at the moment.

"I thought it would be easier to understand what Sona was trying to say if she used Blitz's phone talk thingy," Olaf explained. "It, uh, hasn't gone so well." Sona nodded sadly in agreement.

"That's ridiculous," Mordekaiser rebuked. "Her signing is simple enough for us idiots to understand her just fine." He spread his arms to encompass Karthus and Yorick when he mentioned idiots. The gesture perked Sona up, causing her to blush slightly as she threw up the heavy metal horns in response. "That a girl!" Turning his attention to Olaf he asked, "So did Sona give you the sheets yet? You ready to play with the band?"

Olaf swallowed hard. He did say he would play with the band, though he hadn't actually expected them to follow through on their end. "I-uh..." cornered without an excuse, he sighed and submitted. "Yeah, I guess. It looks tough but, I'll give it a shot."

"Yes, let's go!" Karthus excitedly raced out of the room, followed by Yorick calling after him.

"Slow down, you don't want to faint again." He laughed a laugh that again turned into a coughing fit. Mordekaiser remained just a moment longer, sizing up Olaf as the bro stood to leave.

"Catch you later nerd," Olaf said, pointing at Blitzcrank. As he started to walk off he quickly turned back and snapped his fingers. "But nerds are cool now, remember?"

As the trio started down the hall, Sona gave a weak tug on Olaf's sleeve and stopped them. With a wave she signaled for Mordekaiser to go on, who nodded his acknowledgment and continued. Sona had her phone in hand still and she began to type something new. Olaf looked around as the time passed, wondering what exactly it was she wanted to say. Before she could finish though, he decided he had something he needed to get off his chest.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened. Like, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I just wanted to help, you know? But I guess you didn't really need my help anyway. So... Sorry..."

Sona smiled in response and pushed the button on her phone. "_TIE-FOUR-TRIN-SEMICOLON-CLOSE-PARENTHESIS-LESS-THAN-THREE-YOU-BRO_." _ty 4 tryn ;) 3 u bro_

"Bro," he declared warmly, pounding fists with the girl.

* * *

><p>"One more time bros, I know I can do this!"<p>

As the evening rolled in, Olaf found himself in a peculiar situation. At first he felt he would just play his one obligated song with the band and leave, but he couldn't do it. It wasn't that he was no longer willing to. If anything his determination to play with the band grew as the hours passed. No, the fact was he physically couldn't perform his part. He read over the notes, played it in his mind, assured the band that the next attempt would be the one...

But he couldn't do it.

"Olaf, it's okay," Mordekaiser reassured. "We have two more days before the talent show, I'm sure we'll hit it before then."

_Two more days_. Olaf had to think about it while the others packed up their gear. _Two more days_. Was he really going to go through with it? Get on stage in front of everybody and play? _Two. More. Days._

"Going to join us tonight?" Mordekaiser asked, the last one in the room besides Olaf. Olaf just shook his head in response, still trying to sort out his thoughts. "Another protein shake dinner, right? Well, you know where to find us."

With that the bro was left alone. He looked down over the sheet music one more time. Why did he want to play it so bad? What was driving him to try so hard? Drumming was never really so important to him before. But this was nothing like he'd ever learned to play. Heavy metal was raw. It was played loud and hard. It evoked a sense of bloodlust from deep within him. He heard axes on metal and the clap of thunder in each note.

And he liked it.

But what of his reputation? He had worked so hard to change his image. Being the only student from Lokfar, a peninsula region in northern Freljord small in population but large in size, he had a chance to become someone new when he started attending the Institute of War. A chance to leave behind his old persona and finally be one of the popular guys. If he goes through with this, it could mean the end of all his hard work.

The thoughts plagued him into the next day as the bell again called out the end of the school day. Olaf sat at his desk, escape a moot thought anyway, he figured, with Sona in his final class. He wasn't sure he wanted to escape the band anyway. At least, not until he'd played his part. Over the night Olaf had decided he needed to hear the finished piece just once. Then he would decide if he'd play with the band or not.

But the more he tried and the more he failed, the greater his frustration grew. He started slipping up on easier parts. Missing his cue and throwing the song off beat. At one point a drumstick slipped and flew across the room, nearly hitting Yorick in the head.

It was bad enough that on the day before the talent show Olaf was at his wit's end. He just wanted to play the damn song and be over it! Whatever drive or compulsion to finish this was starting to grate away at him.

"I think it's for the best we just call practice early today," Mordekaiser declared. "Besides, we've got some things we need to discuss."

"I was this close bro, give me one more shot!" Olaf heard his own desperation and attempted to recompose himself. "I mean, yeah, a quick break sounds good. Could, uh, someone pass me my drumstick?"

"So there's something missing. Something this band needs if we're going to be in the show." Olaf's mind raced as Mordekaiser spoke. He reached for his wristband and began to fiddle with it. _He's going to replace me. I'm about to be rejected. Everyone is going to know and I'll look like an idiot. This is it._ "Of course," the guitarist continued, "I'm talking about a name."

With an audible sigh of relief, Olaf rubbed the sweat from his forehead. As the others looked at him oddly, he just laughed it off in an attempt to play cool. "Heh, a band name. Yeah that makes sense. How about the Olaf Experience featuring Sona?" It was meant to be a joke, but the flat delivery of the comment sounded more like an actual suggestion.

"How about we mark that one down as a maybe and keep the ideas flowing?" Karthus said as kindly as he could. "How about Death Defied?"

"Omen of Death," Yorick suggested.

"Siphon of Destruction!" Mordekaiser added.

Sona waved her hands to gather everyone's attention for her idea. Pointing to each member of the band, she counted them on one hand. Then she put her hands to her throat and pretended to choke, her arms falling limp and her head laying to one side with her tongue sticking out.

"Five Choke?" Olaf guessed.

"No. Even better." Mordekaiser rose his fist into the air, reaching for power as he evoked the band's name. "Pentakill!"

"Pentakill," Yorick added to the chant, raising his fist into the air.

"Pentakill!" Karthus nearly yelled, his fist in the air.

Sona pumped her arm up to join the others.

Olaf rubbed the back of his neck, unable to lift his head in case he made eye contact with the rest of the group. "Yeah uh, look, I don't know if I'm gonna play tomorrow." Defeated, the fists fell and shocked looks made their way towards Olaf. "I mean I never said I would really. And besides I can't even get it right, I'd just mess up on stage and look even more like a fool."

"Damn it Olaf, you have a gift!" Mordekaiser barked, his rumbling voice echoing out alarmingly. "What is holding you back? Why don't you want to play? Why won't you share your talent?"

"Because I just want to be cool!" Olaf yelled back, surprised at how heated he was feeling. "You want to know how I learned to play? I was in the school band. A marching band! Tall hats and stupid ropey shoulder things and everyone made fun of me! I only ever got to play the full kit at the music store." Quakes of emotion trembled his body as his voice lowered. "I was a total band nerd and when I came here, well, it was my chance to be someone cool. I'm sorry... I just want to fit in."

Silence weighed down on the band like a thick fog, leaving everyone lost in a haze. No one was sure what to say. Sona was on the verge of tears, she wanted to help so bad. She wanted to make everything right and get the group playing again. The music was her release. But the disharmony in the room was overwhelming.

"Do you remember," Mordekaiser asked, his voice calm and low, "what you first asked me at the beginning of the week? What's up with the mask? I told you I liked my headgear like my music, heavy and metal." Olaf nodded, not sure he really remembered the question exactly. It sounded familiar though. "Well the truth is," he paused as he pulled his welding mask off carefully with both hands. This was the first time both Sona and Olaf had seen the boy without it. Beneath the mask, Mordekaiser had a bulky looking orthodontic headgear attached to his face. Metal rods ran from his mouth to the side of his face, where they connected to straps that pulled up in front of his ears to the crown of his head.

"The truth is," he continued, "I hate that my headgear is so heavy, and metal. I understand why you would want to wear a mask. If you want a place where you fit in, I'd say you fit just fine right there behind that kit. My mask represents who I really am on the inside. Does yours?"

Having heard all he needed, Olaf gathered his bag and walked out of the room without a word.

* * *

><p>The talent show had been, so far, fairly mediocre at best. Draven's juggling, while boisterous as expected, wasn't as much of a showstopper as he'd thought it would be. The fact that he could only juggle two items at a time, and that he ended up dropping one at the end, didn't do him any favors.<p>

Udyr's shadow puppets were a bit confusing and LeBlanc's magic show was off to a bad start when the rabbit decided to sneak out of the hidden compartment in her hat and hop across stage. Irelia didn't really have the space to show off her skateboarding tricks. Sivir's hula hoop tricks were actually well received. But Diana's attempt at standup comedy... well, the less said the better.

Needless to say, the band was getting anxious as each contestant went by. They hadn't seen Olaf since the night before and the way he had just up and left had them worried. "He'll be here," Mordekaiser kept saying, more to himself than to the others. With every nervous glance out to the auditorium seating, he'd hoped to see the drummer making his way backstage.

The truth was, Olaf had been just outside debating whether or not he should go in. He knew Garen and the others were watching the show and it was time he hung out with the cool kids again. But what if _they_ saw him? The band...

With a deep breath through his nose, he opened the door and swaggered in. Applause sounded as another routine ended, Ahri still on stage bowing to the audience. She had on a shiny outfit and a headset microphone, she must have been singing something. Whatever it was, the crowd seemed to like it.

Olaf scanned the seats until he saw the Demacian clique grouped together near the middle rows. He tried calling out to them, but the clapping was too loud. With a shrug he started to make his way over, only to be pulled back by a hand on his shoulder.

"Hold it partner," the boy said as Olaf turned around. He had a cowboy hat low on his head and a grin wide on his face. His voice was smooth and low, the kind of voice you want to trust but you know it won't be good for you. Olaf was sure he'd seen him before, but he couldn't remember where. "Well well, looky here. Where ya goin', Brolaf?"

"Uhh, just gonna go hang with my bros," he answered in confusion. "Do I know you?"

"Maybe you should. The name's Fate, charmed I'm sure." He ran a hand up to his hat and slightly tipped it. That hat, where had Olaf seen it before? "See, thing is Olaf, I've got this gift. I see things others can't. Eyes open, clear as day. For instance," he drew out the last word as he pulled his cellphone from his pocket. With a few swipes of his thumb, he pulled up a video and showed turned the volume up, "I've got this great video right here of your friends. Let's see what they have to say, shall we?"

Olaf leaned in closer to the device, the applause dying down enough for him to hear. It was Garen, Jarvan and Xin Zhao talking to each other in the hall. In fact, this may have even been the day when he'd first met the band.

"I don't like him. He's a tool," Jarvan said as they walked.

"Yeah, I mean he's not someone I want to hang out with all the time," Garen halfheartedly admitted. "He's fine in small doses though, usually."

"Why does he wear those wristbands?" Xin Zhao asked. "Now and Forever is a Demacian thing. He lives in the Freljord! Who is he trying to fool?" The group laughed as they took turns mockingly adding bro to words before the video abruptly cut out.

"Feelin' blue? That one's not even my favorite," Fate's grin grew as wide as the brim of his hat as he queued up the next video. The door of a classroom could been seen, a sudden movement revealed the numbers on the door. It was the band's practice room. Some yelling could be heard inside and Olaf had to listen close to hear it clearly.

"-marching band! Tall hats and stupid ropey shoulder things-" was all he needed to hear. He knew the rest. His mouth dropped open but no words would form. The look of devastation pleased Fate to no end.

"Well, guess you won't have to worry 'bout being cool much longer. Once I upload this fer the whole school to hear, then we'll see who the nerd is." As his last words were spoken like hot coals, Fate began to laugh a smug, taunting laugh.

But Olaf didn't hear it. He heard the voices from the video mocking him. He heard as the band tuned their instruments on stage, getting ready to preform. And he heard a war-like drumming of axes and thunder slowly building. Louder and louder. He grit his teeth and reached for his wristbands, ripping them off and throwing them to the ground. Free of his chains, he balled his hands into fists.

"BOOM!" He yelled as one hand grabbed the hat, the other making contact with Fate's nose. As the entire auditorium turned to see what the yell was about, Olaf placed the hat on his head and ripped his shirt off, yelling a crazed berzerker scream as he ran down to the stage.

"WE ARE PENTAKILL! ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!"

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><p><strong>Pentakill<strong> went on to play their song flawlessly for the first time on stage. They received a standing ovation. While the crowed cried for an encore, the student disciplinary committee escorted Olaf off the stage. The band was disqualified from the talent show, and Ahri's popstar performance won by technicality. The band would continue to perform, getting gigs at clubs, parties, and one really awkward children's birthday. Of course their lives changed forever, as with many others, on the night of their biggest gig: Prom.

**Olaf** received a three day suspension for punching another student. When he finally returned to class, he was a changed man. He'd dyed his hair black, stopped abusing the word 'bro' and generally gave up caring what other people thought of him. His popularity sky rocketed.

**Mordekaiser **started making merchandise for the band. Along with t-shirts and stickers, he custom made heavy metal welding masks as well. Even after his dental work was done the braces were removed, he continued to wear the mask.

**Karthus** took up jogging, slowly building his stamina. He now leads a more active lifestyle, which translates into him jumping around on stage and screaming non-stop without losing his breath.

**Yorick** spent his savings from his summer job on a van to haul the band's gear from gig to gig. It gets terrible gas mileage, has a funny smell in the back and has been needed to be pushed on more than one occasion. But it has a wicked cool airbrushing of a purple, acid spitting, razor-toothed wurm on the side. The band has taken to calling the vehicle Baron Nashor.

**Sona** remained with the band, but also branched out and explored other genres of music. She created a techno-fusion album that became a huge hit in the local arcade scene. When the band was asked if they felt Sona was now a sellout, Olaf received another three day suspension.

* * *

><p><strong>AN sorry for the long wait. Please visit my profile for details on future updates**


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